The Blind Beggar: Part XXIX

Since the death of their father, Amal’s children acted differently.  She saw nothing strange in their actions.  They were in mourning.  Having lost her own father, she understood what it means to lose a parent.  Fathers have special relationships to their children.  They are different than mothers.  Her husband was a strict man with his children but he was also quick to give praise when they deserved it. 

More than two years since the death of her father, Amal’s daughter still had occasions when she cried as she missed her daddy.  After that tragic event, Amal believed she cried because others around her were crying.  Now, a little older, the reality of her father never coming back was seeping in.  Her feelings were her own. 

Her son also missed his father but he tended to act more aggressively.  He mocked his sister when she cried or was moody.  Amal felt fortunate this was the extent of his actions.  While she wasn’t pleased with his behavior toward his sister, he remained respectful to those in authority at school and in the community.  Otherwise, we was quiet and reserved.  He withdrew into himself. 

Amal wanted to reach her son and help him heal.  He always seemed to hold his mother just out of reach.  She could never quite touch his heart.  She missed the days when he was little and would be playing.  On occasions, he would see her while playing, run to her and hop into her lap.  The boy was dirty and sweaty but that he wanted that moment with her in the midst of his playtime warmed her heart.  How she wished he would sit on her lap.  How she wished she could hold and love her young man. 

Amal wrestled with her own demons.  While she could control herself, any sudden loud noises, firecrackers or a car backfiring, caused her heart to race.  For the briefest of moments, she felt panic and feared for the safety of her children.  Images of broken glass, debris and torn bodies flooded in.  Then she would view her surroundings, see other passersby weren’t alarmed, and would continue about her business.  All the while, she fought to suppress the anxiety.  Perhaps that is why sunsets, sunrises, flowers; any form of nature, were soothing. 

While there were occasions Amal felt it a chore to write about the twilight sky, she always savored the opportunity to let it infuse peace into her soul.  It was her moment to commune with the beauty of the creation God made.  There were times she would close her eyes and let the sounds, smells and sensations come to her.  When she did this it seemed nature showered her with blessings.  It didn’t always happen but Amal cherished the moments. 

After two weeks since first learning about the blog written about sunsets, Boulos had time and was in the mood to read about the sunsets.  Boulos had learned to read in the little schooling received when he was young.  In many ways he was still learning.  He had liked to read and found it an escape from the difficulties of life.  The children he played with, even Amal, didn’t know this about him.  When he was alone, he read anything he could find.  He read the words of this blog haltingly.  The writer often used words uncommon to him. 

This night, he started at the top of the blog and worked his way down.  The writer styled each sunset with peace and passion.  Each canvas was painted with desire for eternity.  They seemed to capture a glimpse of God at work.  In that way, Boulos felt the writer in touch with the divine. 

He read: “With soft waves, the Mediterranean laps at the Lebanese shore.  From southeast to the northwest, lines of fuchsia, hues of blue and grayish purple fill the horizon.  Burning, rose colored cumuli etch the sky with warmth while an atmosphere of baby blue peers at the earth below.  Row upon row of salmon cotton balls line the edge of the clouds while softer, wispy cirrus above frame the heavenly vision.  Man interjects himself into the godly canvas with contrails of white and a black and red vessel upon the seas.” 

As he read, the phrase “cotton balls line the edge” seared into his consciousness.  Amal once used cotton balls to describe a sunset to him.  Could this be Amal?  His Amal?